


because you're mine, i walk the line

by unbrokengibberish



Series: these lonely woods ain't so lonely [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, rural au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4700162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbrokengibberish/pseuds/unbrokengibberish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck, hard labor’s a good look for you, Gallagher,” the rough voice of Mickey Milkovich said from off to Ian’s left. He turned, seeing Mickey swagger up the driveway. </p><p>“Fuck you, Milkovich,” he replied, raising the axe and chopping another piece of wood. It split with ease and Ian lifted another piece up to the block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	because you're mine, i walk the line

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by [brightbulbs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbulbs/pseuds/brightbulbs) on here and [lesjouetsdudestin](http://lesjouetsdudestin.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. It kind of took a sappy direction.
> 
> This is also unedited, so all mistakes are my own, but I was excited to publish something :)

The lawn outside (if one could call it a lawn with its patches of dried up grass and mole hills) glistened with dew as the first day of real fall set in. The air felt crisp and the apples on the gravel road were starting to fall off of their tree. 

Ian groaned as the cold air set into the house, waking him up early in the morning, so early that the rooster hadn’t even crowed yet. He stretched in his too small bed, before sitting up, looking around the room to see if anyone else was awake. 

Lip was sprawled out on his stomach, mouth hanging open and drool pooling on his pillow in the top bunk. Below him, Carl looked like a starfish on his back, awkward gangly limbs haphazardly thrown about him looking dead to the world, with a fleece blanket thrown over him. In the crib at the foot of Ian’s bed, Liam sat up, wide eyed and making no peep. 

Ian yawned again, before getting out of bed, throwing on his flannel that was hung over his bed frame and pulling on a pair of thick sweatpants, that had a hole in the knee. He slipped on his boots, too cold to walk around the house without any shoes on, and made his way over to Liam’s crib. 

“Morning, big guy,” he greeted Liam as he lifted him out of bed. “You wanna help me get some wood from outside?” 

Liam nodded, smiling his toothy grin up at Ian, as Ian quietly made his way out of the room. Debbie’s door was still closed as was Frank’s, but Fiona’s was open just slightly and he heard a small crash, followed by a “shit” from the kitchen. 

Ian grabbed an old baggy sweatshirt from the floor, wrapping it around Liam before making his way down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Morning,” he whispered to Fiona as he and Liam entered the room. 

She jumped a little, scraping up the coffee grounds that had fallen on the counter, and smiled. 

“Good morning,” she greeted them, before switching on the coffee pot. “What are you doing up so early?” 

“Cold,” Ian responded, setting Liam in his high chair and making sure he was strapped in before turning back to his sister. “Was gonna get a fire going and then move some of the wood up onto the porch so we don’t have to be running back to the shed everytime.” 

“Thanks, sweet face,” Fiona responded. Under her eyes were large bruises and her hair was in its usual disarray. 

“You sleep at all last night?” 

“A bit. Frank came barging in here, drunk off his moonshine and screaming. Had to get him to shut up so he wouldn’t wake y’all up.” 

“Can we just lock him out this winter? Maybe he’ll freeze to death and we won’t have to deal with him anymore?” 

“Don’t joke,” Fiona said, half smirking at the idea of not having to worry about Frank on top of how they were going to keep from freezing all winter. 

“We got enough food? Mickey fixed up their truck and said if I needed a ride into town he’d be happy to help in exchange for some firewood.” 

“Can’t the Milkoviches chop their own wood?” Fiona asked, eyebrow raised as the coffee finished brewing. 

“Yeah, but they hate it. Plus they have the car and they gave us all that deer last winter. It’s really the least we can do,” Ian replied, shuffling on his feet a little and not making eye contact with his sister. She handed him a cup of coffee, trying to hide her smirk. 

“You know you and Mickey aren’t as sly as y’all think?” 

Ian blushed, deep red burning his skin, as he looked back down at the floor. 

“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Ian said, softly. “Just don’t say anything.” 

“I won’t. Promise. I’ll get you a list of shit we need in town. Tell Mickey thank you,” Fiona said, voice gentler than before. 

“Come on, monkey man, you wanna help me get some wood?” Ian asked, setting his half drunk cup of coffee back on the cold counter top and turning to Liam. 

“Firewood!” Liam chanted as Ian lifted him out of his seat. 

/// 

Ian had been friends with Mickey and Mandy Milkovich since they were little kids. There weren’t many people around them so they kind of had to make due with what they had, but that never really phased Ian. The Milkoviches weren’t exactly the neighborly type and most people in the area avoided them, what with Terry Milkovich running a less than legal Meth operation. They technically weren’t even neighbors; the Milkovich house was about half a mile from the Gallaghers but the were the closest. 

Ian and Mickey had started sneaking around about a year and a half ago, but Mickey wouldn’t admit that they were more than just convenient friends. Ian got it. They weren’t exactly living in San Francisco. Being gay in this part of the country wasn’t a thing that most people advertised and most of the time he was fine just sneaking around, fucking behind trees and in the creek and whatever, but sometimes. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to actual date Mickey. To hold his hand in public like Fiona did with Jimmy Steve. To make out inappropriately in front of others like Lip kept doing with Karen Jackson and Mandy. He mostly kept those thoughts to himself, but obviously Fiona saw past his facade. As long as Mickey never found out, he’d be fine. 

Ian gathered up the a wheelbarrow of dried wood from their shed, wrapping his flannel tighter around him as the fall breeze swept through the area. The sun was just peaking up over the hills and the rooster was finally awake, making its terrible noise. Ian sometimes debated whether or not it would be better to just kill the thing. 

Liam walked behind him back to the house, carrying a few stray sticks and pieces of the crumbling shed for kindling. His hat was pulled down his ears and Ian smiled at the fact that his little brother was so happy in such a simple life. 

Sometimes he resented it. Resented the fact that they’d been raised in isolation, resented the fact that they had to steal shit all the time and that they didn’t even have a car to get to town. He sometimes wished for a life of neighbors and sidewalks and going out on the town at night. But he always felt guilty when he started to think that way. 

Liam bumped into Ian from behind, when Ian stopped abruptly looking at their house. The rundown shack needed a coat of paint or six and a serious safety inspection, but it was home. He could see cracks that needed to be patched up for winter, but the two story house was a lot stronger than most. Maybe it was because it had to be to hold all six (or seven) of the Gallaghers. 

“Why’da stop?” Liam asked, looking up at Ian under thick eyelashes. 

“Just thinking, monkey,” Ian replied, starting to push the wheelbarrow again. 

“Thinking ‘bout what?” 

“What we’re gonna have for breakfast,” Ian responded, grinning widely at the little boy. 

“I want chicken eggs,” Liam said, enthusiastically as they made it to the front porch. 

“Well you better go let Fi know that,” Ian said, smirking at the little boy as he ran in the house, dropped the kindling by the stove, and disappeared out of sight. 

Ian lugged in enough wood to get the fire started, and shut the door behind him. He dropped the wood, gently, on the floor in front of the stove before opening it up. He crumpled some old newspaper and threw that inside the stove with some of the kindling, before lighting it. He waited for the flame to take before he stacked more wood in it. 

The living room immediately filled with smoke. Their chimney was definitely a fire hazard, but it didn’t really matter too much considering the whole house smelled of old tobacco anyway. The heat that came with the smoke was all they really cared about and Ian held his hands in front of the flame for a moment, before closing the door and opening the chimney properly. Most of the smoke disappeared after a few minutes. 

Ian stacked some wood next to the wood stove, stacking the remaining of the wheelbarrow by the front door. 

By the time he got back to the kitchen, all the Gallaghers were awake. 

“Look at Lumber Joe,” Lip greeting him. Ian flipped him off. 

“You could do it for a change,” Ian replied, pouring himself more coffee and taking the plate of eggs and white toast that Fiona handed him. He sat at the kitchen table next to Debbie. 

“Too much work,” Lip replied, cheekily smiling as Ian rolled his eyes. Lip was the brains of the family, and he knew it. He barely did any work and managed to be the best in their high school. Not that their high school was exactly breaking academic records or anything, but Lip was at the top. Ian resented that too, hated the fact that Lip did nothing and got everything, while Ian worked his ass off with nothing to show for it. 

Mickey would argue that his muscles were payment enough. 

“How's the wood looking Ian?” Fiona asked, dishing up a plate of food for Carl. 

Ian choked on his eggs, sending him into a coughing fit. Lip smirked at him across the table. He took a sip of coffee to clear out his throat. 

“We have enough for winter, but we're gonna have to start looking for more fallen trees for next year. I’ll go looking later.” 

“You’re the best,” Fiona replied. “Shit, I got to get to that interview. Jimmy Steve is picking me up. I left that list for you to go into town later.” 

With that she disappeared up the stairs and a few minutes later she was rushing back down and out the door, just as a set of tires pulled up on the gravel driveway. 

“How are you getting to town?” Lip asked as Ian finished eating. 

“Mickey fixed up their truck.” Ian placed his plate in the sink, hoping that Debbie and Carl would remember to do the dishes. Ignoring Lip’s pointed look, Ian headed for the stairs. “I’m going to go get chopping that wood. If you feel like being useful, you can come help me.” 

///

An hour later, Ian was chopping up dried wood to stack next to the house. He was sweating through his flannel. He stripped it off, wiping his hand across his forehead to collect the beads of sweat that had gathered on his brow. 

“Fuck, hard labor’s a good look for you, Gallagher,” the rough voice of Mickey Milkovich said from off to Ian’s left. He turned, seeing Mickey swagger up the driveway. 

“Fuck you, Milkovich,” he replied, raising the axe and chopping another piece of wood. It split with ease and Ian lifted another piece up to the block. 

“You still heading into town with me later?” Mickey asked as he approached Ian, leaning against a tree. 

“Yeah, I just gotta stack this before it rains,” Ian said, while splitting another piece of wood. 

He could feel Mickey’s eyes boring holes into his body, but he couldn’t let that distract him now. He needed to get this done. 

“You need help?” Mickey asked, making Ian stop in his tracks. 

“You offering to help me?” 

“That’s what I just fucking said, ain’t it?” 

“Who the fuck are you are where is Mickey Milkovich?” 

“Ay, fuck you, nevermind,” Mickey said, chewing on his bottom lip and looking away. 

“I’m just playing with you, Mickey. I’d love the help,” Ian said, smiling at the way Mickey smirked a little. 

He could tell that the other boy wanted some alone time and Ian wasn’t going to argue with that. 

Ian finished chopping the wood and threw as much of it into the wheelbarrow as would fit. Mickey gathered a large armful and followed him to the house, stacking it on the porch next to the front door. 

A half an hour later, they were both tired and very sweaty. 

“Ugh, thank you,” Ian groaned, rubbing at his sore shoulders. “I have to shower before we head into town. Do you want a beer?” 

“Sure, man,” Mickey grunted out, wiping his forehead against his shirt. Ian didn’t offer him a shower, partially because he knew there was next to no hot water left this late in the day and partially because Mickey would refuse. 

He got Mickey a beer and left him in the living room with Liam as he ran upstairs to take a shower. 

Lip was sitting at the desk in their room, when Ian ducked inside to grab a change of clothes. 

“You getting ready for your date?” he asked, voice full of non humored laughter.

“Fuck you. It’s not a date,” Ian replied, trying to make a quick escape to the bathroom. 

“I don’t know. Milkovich giving you a ride to town and you’re getting all fancy, sounds like a date to me.” 

“I’m not getting all fancy. I’m cleaning off after working my ass off all morning, jackass,” Ian fumed. He made a dash to the bathroom before Lip could retort. 

He finished showering and got dressed (he added some product to his hair but that was only because he wanted to look decent for the people in town not because he cared what Mickey thought of him, fuck off). 

When he got downstairs, Mickey wasn’t in the living room. Carl was sitting where Mickey had been next to Liam on the couch. 

“Where’d Mickey go?” Ian asked, grabbing the list that Fiona left him off the kitchen counter. 

“Smoke,” Carl said, waving in the direction of the front door. 

Ian sighed, before filling up the wood stove to keep the heat up. 

“See you later,” Ian said, bending over and dropping a quick kiss to both Liam’s and Carl’s heads. 

Mickey was leaning against the side of their house, smoking a cigarette. He had a jacket that Ian hadn’t noticed before, pulled tightly around him. 

“Is that mine?” Ian asked, taking a step closer to Mickey and gesturing toward the familiar jacket.

“It’s cold,” Mickey deadpanned. “Are you ready?” he asked, stomping out his cigarette. 

“Why didn’t you drive here?” Ian asked as he followed Mickey down the long driveway. 

Mickey turned to look at him, rolling his eyes, and then continued forward. When they were about halfway down the gravel path and well out of the sight of the house, Mickey shoved Ian up against the closest tree. 

“This is why,” he said, before sealing his mouth over Ian’s. 

Mickey had only kissed Ian a month ago after years of not being comfortable with it or not letting himself or whatever. But Ian already knew that it was his favorite thing. It was better than sex. It was Mickey opening up to him, vulnerably, and letting Ian explore his whole person. 

The way that Mickey’s tongue slid into his mouth had Ian’s knees buckling. His hands shot up to grip at Mickey’s hips and pull him in closer as Mickey’s hands came up to cup his face. They kissed for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before Ian sucked Mickey’s bottom lip into his mouth and pulled away for air. 

“The fuck was that for?” 

“Looked hot earlier. Wanted to do that then, but your family,” Mickey trailed off, resting his forehead against Ian’s and lowering his hands to Ian’s shoulders. 

“I think they know,” Ian said, tensing for what he assumed would be a big blowup. 

“What do you mean?” Mickey asked, realing his head back a little but keeping his grip on Ian. 

“I haven’t told them or anything. They’re just suspicious.” 

“They better not fucking say anything,” Mickey grunted. 

“They won’t. I promise.”

“Better not. I know how to bury a body in the woods,” Mickey said, voice serious, but causing Ian to laugh. 

Ian shoved him away, continuing their walk down the road. 

“Yeah, yeah. Fucking tough guy. I know,” he mumbled, bumping into Mickey’s shoulder as they walked. 

///

“Mick, you ever think about living in the city?” Ian asked from the passenger seat of Mickey’s beat up old pick up. They were about twenty minutes into the drive looking at another twenty before they got to town, and Ian sometimes thought about how much easier it’d be to just live there. 

“Fuck would I want that for?” Mickey asked around the cigarette dangling from his lips. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to chop wood just to heat the house? Or hunt for your own meat? Or drive thirty miles just to go to a real grocery store? You never think about that shit.” 

“You asking me if I’d like to live in the city or if I’d like to be rich?” 

Ian paused, mulling over his thoughts as he stared out the window. He could sense Mickey’s gaze flicking over to him every once in a while as he kept his eyes mostly on the road in front of them. 

It started to drizzle before Ian responded. 

“Not rich. Just not dirt poor? There are people who can afford to pay to heat their homes and who don’t have to sell drugs to get what they want? Don’t you ever think of that?” 

“Sure, I fucking think about it, but what’s the point. I ain’t ever getting out of here, Ian. The fuck am I going to do in a city?” 

Ian could hear the self-loathing behind Mickey’s words and knew that Mickey didn’t think he was good enough for anything. 

“You could work in a garage?” Ian suggested. At Mickey’s scoff, Ian turned to face him. “I’m serious. You fixed up this piece of shit. You fix all the bikes back home. You could do it. We could get out.” 

“What, you think that you and I can start some magical life in the big shiny city? I hate to tell you this, Ian, but they hate gay people in the city just as much as in the country,” Mickey replied, eyes staring straight at the road. 

“It’s different, Mick,” Ian stated, matter-of-factly. “It has to be different,” he whispered lower this time trying to convince himself as well as Mickey. 

He just wanted to hold his boyfriend’s hand without being killed for it. 

Mickey didn’t respond and Ian let the subject drop. They entered the city, pulling off onto the freeway, before exiting to get to the store they wanted. Ian shopped, gathering as much as he could without going over the budget Fiona left him, and Mickey disappeared into the hardware section. 

Ian waited for him back out at the truck when he was finished gathering all the groceries and necessary toiletries that the Gallagher house needed for the next few weeks at least. He hoped that they would last longer than that. 

Mickey walked up to the truck, threw what he had bought in the back, and jumped in without a word. Ian loaded up his groceries before entering the silent truck. 

They drove in silent for a half an hour, before Mickey pulled off onto a dirt road that Ian didn’t recognize. It led to the middle of the woods, and there were no houses on either side of them when Mickey stopped the truck. 

“Uh, is this where you kill me?” Ian asked, only half joking, looking around outside. 

Mickey shot him an unimpressed look, before turning off the truck. 

“I’m only gonna say this once, so you better fucking listen,” Mickey started. 

He had Ian’s full attention at that. Ian waited patiently while he watched Mickey’s face twitching with discomfort. 

“Mick…” 

“Just don’t,” Mickey said, turning to face Ian. “Yeah, I picture living in the city. I picture moving out of that god damn shack and burning it to the ground only to run away and never come back. But I can’t do that, Ian. That’s not me. I can’t be a city person. I like hunting for my own food and chopping my own wood and swimming in the fucking creek. It’s what I know. It’s who I am.” 

“Mickey…” 

“Just let me finish,” Mickey said. By this point his face was flushed from his confession, and he was looking down at his lap. “But I want to be with you. I know I never say shit like that, but I do. If you want to move to the damn city one day, you’re gonna have to fight me off to not come with you. It’s you and me, Ian. It’s always been that way and it will always be that way.” 

Ian had to blink back tears that were pooling in his eyes. Mickey had never, in the fifteen or so years that Ian had known him, admitted his feelings so vocally. Ian knew that Mickey cared about him, he knew that Mickey was his best friend, and sometimes he even suspected that Mickey loved him, but Mickey admitting that he wanted to be with Ian for the rest of his life was something that Ian never expected. 

Ian reached out for Mickey. 

“Come here,” he said, his voice cracking a little with emotion. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, but obliged, sliding over on the seat. Ian maneuvered him into his lap. He was afraid to say what he was thinking; he didn’t want to scare Mickey off, so he did his best to show him. 

He sealed his lips over Mickey’s, crushing him in a hard kiss as his arms hugged Mickey tight to his chest. Mickey responded with enthusiasm, licking his way into Ian’s mouth and fisting his hands in his hair. 

Mickey pulled away from Ian for a moment, grabbing a small paper bag off the floor and revealing a new tube of lube and condoms. He smirked at Ian before throwing them on the seat next to them and stripping Ian of his shirt. Ian followed suit, riding Mickey of his own clothes before laying him down on the seat of the truck. 

He worked slowly, letting Mickey know his love through his actions. Mickey held on tight to Ian as Ian melded their bodies together, working to keep them as close as possible. Mickey came apart with a choked “Ian” causing Ian to follow him moments later. 

They got dressed, neither of them being able to wipe the smiles off their faces, and Ian leaned in to kiss Mickey once more before they continued their drive home. 

“You wanna go for a ride later?” Mickey asked as he pulled into Ian’s driveway. 

“I thought we just went on a ride,” Ian said, winking terribly and causing Mickey to laugh in spite of himself. 

“I meant on the fucking four wheeler, you dork,” Mickey said, as Ian hopped out of the truck. Carl came out of the front of the house to help Ian carry in the groceries. 

“I’d love to,” Ian responded, smiling at Mickey as Mickey rolled his eyes. “Pick me up in an hour,” Ian said, before closing the door. 

Mickey flipped him off before pulling out of the driveway. Ian waved at him, overenthusiastic and grinning from ear to ear. He could practically see Mickey’s eye roll from there. 

He brought the groceries in and set them on the table, assuming that the other kids could put them away, before he bounded up the stairs to his room. 

He quickly dug through his dresser, finding the thick, too small flannel that once belonged to Mickey. He lifted it to his face, basking in the softness, before taking a deep breath. He slipped it on, smirking at how small it was on him. He just hoped Mickey recognized it, when he came to pick up Ian. Two could play at the passive-sentimental game. 

He ran back down the stairs to get the fire started again as he waited for Mickey. He’d wait forever for Mickey.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series and I probably won't be updating it regularly at all, but I hope you enjoyed this little part. 
> 
> Come fine me @ [unbrokengibberish](http://unbrokengibberish.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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